


Come Back

by luciferesque



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 19:13:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17668487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferesque/pseuds/luciferesque
Summary: Come back, he says suddenly, and his eyes shine with that fleeting hope.





	Come Back

"The palace is all aquiver with news of your dashing exploits in Amaranthine, my lady."

This is his way of broaching the topic – one of many he’s employed over the past weeks. Alistair, now coroneted like a proper Theirin, still excels in his old pastime of beating around the bush. At court, he has taken her lessons to heart, but something about the gnash of her gaze and the way her jaw sets dissolves every forthright ounce in his body.

"If it saves you from speaking at court, then I must admit I’m surprised you’d draw attention to it at all," she counters, dragging her brush down in long, languid strokes.

"On the contrary. They say who better to regale us with tales of the Hero than the man that was at her side? I could tell them all sorts of funny little things and they’d believe it. Perks of wearing this fancy hat you stuck on me," and he laughs – a soft and gentle thing reserved just for her.

It’s been nearly half a year, and he trembles behind her, the distance between them not enough to drown the heat radiating from his body.

He aches.

And so does she, in her own way.

"And what would you tell them, Your Majesty?" she muses, setting the brush down with a light _clack_.

She turns in her seat, peering at him from her perch, and it is then their roles are reversed. He is at her knees, taking her hips in his hands with all a beggar’s hunger, and she drinks that sight in like holy water.

"They think I have you bewitched", she whispers, pads of her fingers circling the shell of an ear as he buries his face in her lap. "They think I’ve ensorcelled their rightful king. What would you say of that?"

"I would agree with them," he murmurs, voice muffled against her thighs.

She cards a hand through his hair and lights on his jawline, turning his eyes to meet hers. The air fills with the lace of their breath and, for just a moment, they are silent.

"Come back," he says suddenly, and his eyes shine with that fleeting hope.

_"Alistair_ …"

"Come back to Denerim, take up your place as chancellor again" _._

He has his hands against her cheeks in an instant – large and calloused and far warmer than she remembers.

She says nothing as he runs his thumb over her mouth, her teeth. As he pushes his hands through the heavy curtain of her hair.

She says nothing, even as his jaw bites down and the shine in his eyes begin to sting. She says nothing as he draws the hem of her dressing gown in clenched fists, only to sag pitifully against her knee.

_She says nothing_.

She doesn’t have to.


End file.
